


When It Rains (It Pours)

by BloodyRedQueen



Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Child Abuse, Dead Aunt May, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Foster Care, Good Peter, Homelessness, Hurt Peter, Hurt Peter Parker, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Scared Peter, Sickfic, Stabbing, Starvation, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump, again i think i should say sorry, god whats wrong with me, homeless peter, jesus christ - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 17:56:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11926161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyRedQueen/pseuds/BloodyRedQueen
Summary: "It had been a month since May died, and it was really starting to sink in that she wasn't coming back.  In the weeks since she died Peter had been walking around in a haze. He didn't pay attention when the social worker came in the room at the hospital with her wide, pitying eyes, and he didn't pay attention to the car ride away from the hospital, towards the Hawkins'.And now it was much too late to start paying real attention. May was gone, it was summer so he couldn't escape to school, and he was trapped in the house with his awful foster parents. "May dies, and Peter is sent to some terrible people. Basically an excuse for more Peter whump.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second fic, if you like this one definitely check out I'm So Sorry which is a little heavier on physical whump and other Avengers. Leave comments if you have any suggestions, I already have an idea of where this one is going so it's gonna be fun (just not for Peter lmao)

It had been a month since May died, and it was really starting to sink in that she wasn't coming back. In the weeks since she died Peter had been walking around in a haze. He didn't pay attention when the social worker came in the room at the hospital with her wide, pitying eyes, and he didn't pay attention to the car ride away from the hospital, towards the Hawkins'. 

And now it was much too late to start paying real attention. May was gone, it was summer so he couldn't escape to school, and he was trapped in the house with his awful foster parents. 

At first he had to admit they weren't that bad. Just harsh. He had a long list of chores to get done everyday, and he was more than happy to do them. Anything to keep his mind off certain thoughts. The first two weeks he hadn't even snuck out for patrol. How could he when he'd given the suit to Tony for repairs, and then lost contact? But then he'd heard someone crying a few blocks away in the middle of the night, and he reminded himself of his responsibility to the city. 

All in all, the first month post-May was simultaneously slow-going and speeding by. But it came to a crashing halt almost exactly a month after her death. The social worker stopped coming by to make sure he was situated. The night before Peter had been out longer than he'd realized, and snuck back in at 6am, exhausted and beaten and sore. And of course the next morning he hadn't woken in time to get any chores done. 

That day, when Mr. Hawkins came home around lunchtime, he decided Peter wasn't going to eat until the next day. 

It didn't really phase Peter at first. He hardly cared about two missed meals, and he'd gone longer before. Given, with his new super-metabolism, he needed more than the average bear to eat on any particular day. But Peter just kept chugging along. 

That was that, and Peter didn't give it much thought until it started happening frequently. After the Hawkins caught him sneaking some crackers after patrol one night, they started locking up the cabinets. 

"We don't want to have to do this. You know, we've fostered many kids and we've never had this problem before"

He just looked at them with one hand held over his growling stomach. Peter didn't see much point in arguing, they'd just get angry. He just needed to learn to be there when they were eating their meals, and to make sure all of his chores were done on time. But it was a slippery slope, and eventually between the fatigue from latenight patrols, the hunger, and the chores he missed a whole day of meals. If he'd been eating properly before that he might've recovered alright, but he was already hungry (on the verge of starving) going into the day. And seeing how missing out on meals didn't seem to 'fix his behavior', the Hawkins opted for drastic measures. 

And that was how Peter found himself locked in an unplugged freezer in the basement. His strength had faded a long time ago, and if he felt the lid above him he could run his fingers over the bumps where his finger nails had tried scratching through. But his weren't the only fingernail marks on the lid. If he went slowly, he could feel different markings left behind from other kids, months or years ago. 

Paul Weir 2012  
Fuck THiS

One marking felt like a crude penis etched into the side with what must've been a spare safety pin. The air was thick and hot in there, but his fingertips and toes were freezing cold. Peter felt sick to his stomach and he needed to pee. He'd rather die than pee or barf in here, and then be trapped with it for what could be hours longer.

He closed his eyes against the panic balling itself up in his chest. He thought about May, what she would say to him if she were here, but he couln't imagine she'd ever allow this to happen so he couldn't figure out how she'd react. Probably with a hug. Her hugs always made him calm down. She smelled like cinnamon and fall time and home and Peter's heart ached thinking about it. 

What would Tony say? Something snarky and witty probably. Something like "cool enough kid?" and then he'd throw an arm around Peter's shoulders and curse a little under his breath, and then tell Peter to reach out when he needed help. Peter missed his phone. He wanted to call Happy right now and get back-up. Imagining Iron-Man cratering through the house and blowing into the basement to free Peter lightened his spirits, if only a little. 

But his phone had broken at the hospital. With it he'd lost Tony's phone number, Happy's phone number, any contact he had to the Avengers. He knew Tony had the resources to look for him, he must've known May had passed, but he didn't say anything. Never stopped to check in or anything. The abandonement made Peter's heart ache a little more. He felt so alone. He'd lost his home, his family, his friends, everything. 

Peter cried long and hard in the freezer. At some point he fell asleep, only to wake up again still trapped. He hit the top of it with full force, which was roughly equivalent to a very strong cat in his current state. 

"I-I need out! Let me out! Let me out!" He shouted, but either no one answered or no one was there. He hit his leg in frustration and anger. His stomach was empty but he felt sick. What if he ran out of air in here? Who would even come to his funeral? Would anyone even know?

What if this is what the Hawkins did? What if they just kept kids like him, kids no one would notice gone, in freezers like this until they died? 

The thought sent him into a panic attack, thrashing around in the freezer and sucking in shallow breaths that never made it to his lungs. 

"Please. Let me out. Let me out. I get it." He said, wheezing. His hands and feet were numb, pin pricks stretching up his arms and legs. This could be it, he realized, he could die right here right now and no one would know. A tear escaped his eye, hot and salty. 

In that second he could hear the lock snapping open on the freezer, and the lid opened to a very concerned Happy.   
................................................................................................................................................

"Jesus, kid" 

Happy looked down at the teenage vigilante. His face was red and sweaty, lungs contracting at the speed of a hummingbird, his fingers were bloody from where he'd scratched them all to hell. He was skinnier than Happy ever remembered him being, and his eyes were sunk into his face. 

Shaking, the kids' hands clambered up the side of the freezer and over the edge for purchase. He was having some kind of attack and he was trying to lift his body out, but it looked like he was too weak for it. 

Happy wanted to smack himself for waiting so long to check on the kid. Tony wanted to keep his distance, let the teenager grieve in peace. He'd thought Peter could use a break from crime fighting thoughts for a while. Besides, he hadn't called Tony for the suit back or texted, and they wanted to give him time. So when they started getting reports of a 5 foot 2 teenager dressed in black just weeks after May had died they were both surprised. Just another two weeks after that the reports of the crime fighter halted again. Tony didn't think anything was wrong, but something bugged Happy about the situation. Something had to be off, and he'd decided to check on the kid really quick. 

Somewhere behind him Happy could hear the pounding of Ms. Hawkins' feet coming down the stairs. 

"Now you have no business being down here! This is- this is my house! You can't just- my house!" 

Happy had been rung the bell and stepped in for some tea when he heard some commotion in the basement. The woman stepped into another room to do something, and Happy didn't waste any time before going down the stairs to investigate. 

"No business? That's fresh." 

He grabbed Peter and carefully lifted him out of the freezer. The kid was light. Scary light. The kid looked up again and swallowed once. 

"You're here?" 

Happy's heart broke in two. Him and Tony really fucked this one up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing really goes well for Peter, does it?
> 
> Special appearance by one Matthew Murdock, and plenty more next chapter

Tony looked across the hall, into the room where several of his personal medical staff were fussing around Peter. The kid looked awful, almost worse than when he was brought in with a panicking Happy. 

"He was what?" 

"In a uh, in a freezer. Locked"

"Jesus." 

Tony put his head in his hands and pinched the bridge of his nose. All this time, he hadn't had any idea what the kid had been through. According to Happy, the kid had thought they were ignoring him like they were fed up with him or something. He still had a dazed look in his eyes like he couldn't believe he was back at the facility. 

Guilt sunk into Tony's chest, heavy and deep. He was supposed to be there for the kid. It was always Tony's responsibility to make sure the light never went out of those eyes. But the past month and a half wasn't kind, and Tony's failure weighed on his shoulders heavily. He pulled his head up with a deep sigh and looked at Peter again.

"Alright. Well. Plan of action. First step, lets get some adoption papers on hand, as well as a few attorneys. FRIDAY, could you pull up all the necessary paperwork? Just put it on my desk." 

"Yes sir, right away. There is a call on hold from the social worker on Peter's case. Should I patch her through?" 

Tony sighed, he'd wanted to talk with Peter for a bit before getting into all of the legal mumbo-jumbo, but it looked like that wasn't on the table. 

"Sure. Personal phone"

"Mr. Stark, this is Annette O'Hare, Peter's social worker. From my understanding one of your goons has kidnapped a minor?" 

Happy looked over. "Goon? Do I look like a goon?"

"Your understanding is grossly incorrect. One of my 'goons' as you refer to them, discovered a disturbing display of child abuse at the hands of the foster 'family' you so kindly shoved Mr. Parker into. You'll be hearing from our lawyers." 

"If that is even true it has to be investigated by the Child Protection Services, the fact of the matter is you have no right to-"

Stark hung up the phone and looked over at a shocked nurse. 

"Incompetence gives me acid reflux." He said before storming his way over to Peter's room. His boots stomped on the ground and his fists were clenched against his sides. 

"Boss, hey." Happy grabbed his arm, "It was uh... it was pretty bad in there. I know that you know, but just... I know you're mad, just remember who it's at".

Tony nodded once and took back his arm as Happy walked away to go deal with lawyers and call Pepper. He knew his childhood hadn't been great but the idea of what Peter had had to go through was staggering. 

When he walked into the room the kid looked up at him. 

"Mr. Stark! Hey" He sounded so worn out. Tony knew he had a right to be. 

"Hey, kid" He held the kid's hand, careful of the small white bandages covering the top of his fingers. 

"So uh-" The kid cleared his throat, "What's-what's going to happen now? What do I do?" He looked up at Tony. Tony was never an expert on the human condition, the range of emotions made him queasy at best. But he could see Peter was scared in a way no child should ever be afraid. 

"Well you're going to stay here for a while. And by a while I mean until adulthood, and maybe a little past that if you want"

Peter paused then, looking into Tony's eyes. He blinked once, and Tony could see the tears he was fighting. 

"I couldn't do that, I'm sorry, I never should've asked you, they'll uh- they'll place me somewhere else Mr. Stark, it'll really work out this time I think-"

Tony interrupted him, "None of that. You're going to stay here. You're going to be safe, God help me". 

Peter's chin started shaking and Tony could see the waterworks starting 

"Woah hey, c'mon now, I uh- I don't know what to do if you cry so maybe hold off for a few minutes until I can leave the room for that huh?" 

As luck would have it, Pepper walked in that second. 

"Tony how come wherever you go there's children crying?" She had a slight smile on her face, and it reminded Peter of when he'd tried to make cupcakes, and May walked in to see him huffing a big cloud of flour.

"That's hardly fair, he was traumatized before I even got here." Pepper gave him a pointed look. "What, too soon?"

She walked over to where Peter was sitting and slowly brushed her hand into his hair. He couldn't help but lean into it and accept the comfort after a long and stressful 6 weeks.

"I heard you're not doing so well little man. How do you feel?" Peter opened his mouth but before he could say anything his stomach grumbled loudly. He looked a little surprised and his face turned red. Pepper looked behind her shoulder at Tony. 

"How long has he been here with no food?" Tony's mouth gaped open in lieu of an answer. He gestured with his hand as if to say they'd been busy, but she just rolled her eyes and looked up at where FRIDAY's sensor was at. 

"FRIDAY could you get us some soup and light sandwiches? I'm sure Peter's stomach is pretty sensitive right now. And double the order too, we'll want extra." She looked down at Peter and he looked back up at her. He really was close to crying now. 

She bent down and hugged him gently. The kid clung to her like she was his lifeline, and Tony could see a sob wrack the kids body. 

"It's ok. You're ok." She was carefully running one hand through his hair and the other was rubbing his back. 

She could feel his ribs pushing into her.   
................................................................................................................................................

Peter was feeling ok for the first time in a while. His stomach was full. He was warm. Tony and Happy and Pepper were there for him. He'd finally be ok. 

He felt so cozy, covered in a blanket and full of soup and ham sandwiches. He could distantly hear Tony arguing with some people in black suits, but Pepper was sitting next to him on the bed trying to get him engaged in some tv show she said they were going to binge together. He felt like he was about to fall asleep, into a comfortable sleep, and the thought of it made his eyes burn a little. 

But then he heard Tony shouting in the distance, "No! No, that's ridiculous. That's not going to happen. Over my dead body." 

Intrigued, he tuned in. 

"Sir, I'm sorry, but until the paperwork is processed or an investigation is concluded, Peter's legal guardians are the Hawkins. Now, we're going to fight this tooth and nail, but he needs to stay there in the meanwhile. It's the law". 

"Yeah, well the law can kiss my chrome ass. Actually, scratch that. Vibranium ass." 

Adrenaline flooded Peter's veins. They were going to take him back. Oh god, they were going to take him away from Tony again. 

"If he isn't back in that house within an hour or so, the police are going to come here. You'll have charges pressed against you. Do you know how hard it is to win custody when you're in a jail cell?"

Peter could hear Tony sighing

"They'll need a hell of a lot more than a couple cops to take him or me away. Bring it on." 

Tony was going to get arrested. Tony was going to go to jail. Pepper might too, if she tried to stop them. And Happy. He was on the verge of losing everything again. Suddenly Peter felt like he only had one option left. He wasn't going back there. It wouldn't be his fault that Iron-Man became incarcerated.

He needed to run away. Luckily he'd just had food, and his stomach size was much smaller since living with the Hawkins. It should be able to last him at least a day, if not two. He only needed to stay away for a week or two at most, right? After that the adoption paperwork would be processed and he could come back, eat more soup and watch tv and tinker with gadgets. It'd all be okay if he could just get out. 

Peter spied his backpack sitting across the room. In it would be his back-up web shooters, as well as the black clothes he'd been using for patrol. All he needed was to grab that backpack and get out the window. From there he could swing into the city, and find a good dumpster or something to hide in until things died down. 

He could do this. 

He could make it.   
................................................................................................................................................

Well, he definitely made it.

It had been five days since he swung out of the compound. Five days of sweltering New York heat, fighting crime to keep busy. Peter avoided Queens, knowing that would be were Tony would look for him. He took up fighting in a new burough each night, keeping to the alleys and backstreets where no CCTV footage could catch him. 

If he was being honest, being homeless sucked. His muscles ached from fighting all night and then sleeping all day in trash. He smelled god awful from the trash thing. And there was only so much food he could nab from the dumpsters of super markets before someone would catch him. For all of his spider- instincts, Peter was the least sneaky person on the face of the Earth. 

But he figured he'd only need to stay away for another 9 days. If he could make it that long the rest of his life would get easier, happier even. He knew he was running a little warmer than usual, but what difference would it make? He was a Parker, and Parker's don't abandon plans at the slightest hint of fever.   
................................................................................................................................................

Matt had been hearing word of some yahoo in a black sweatshirt leaving criminals webbed up all week. No one had gotten a good look at him, but he seemed to work all night and spread around the city. 

Matt didn't trust it. Hell, he was hard-pressed to trust the Defenders, and that was slow going. 

So he sat in his perch in Hell's Kitchen for a few hours, listening for any commotion in his domain. Eventually he heard it. The sound of a fight, footsteps grinding into the asphalt, the smack of a fist against skin, and then quiet again. Naturally, he took the quickest route across the roof tops to investigate. 

What he found wasn't quite what he expected. 

Some smelly teenager crouched over what looked to be a purse-snatcher, hands clutched over their side where Matt could hear and smell blood leaking. The kid handed the purse off to some civilian, and then the civilian ran off. And then Matt heard the sound of one of the kids' knees hitting the pavement as he grunted, pushing hard on a stab wound. 

Matt was well-acquainted with the action of patching up stab wounds, and thought to offer his assistance. 

"You need a hand?" He asked as he swooped down. 

The kid's head whipped up with a swoosh of air, and he promptly crumbled to the ground, unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comment if you have any suggestions/critiques, or if you liked it also. 
> 
> Definitely going to be more Matt and some Jessica next chapter. 
> 
> Still looking for a beta, so hmu if you're interested.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt is broody, Jessica needs more whiskey, and Peter finally catches a break.

Jessica looked up from her bottle of whiskey. It had to be around 3 in the morning, but she'd lost track of time somewhere around the second bottle.

"I'm closed for the night" she shouted in the direction of the knock. Through the newest pane of glass she could see a dark figure carrying a lump of dark fabric. The door opened to Murdock, who was carrying a bundle of a person. 

Murdock was in full douche-baggery, his get up as ridiculous as it was the first time she saw it. He stiffened a little when he smelled the whiskey, and his nose crinkled in the way it always did when he sensed a bad decision happening around him. 

"Your place was closest." 

She looked at who was in his arms. Looked like an adult, but smaller. So a teenager. The teenagers blood was going to stain the cheap tile. She gestured to the couch, knowing Murdock would know exactly what she meant. He dropped the kid on it, and the teen barely roused from whatever la la land he was in. She took another swig of the whiskey before walking over where tweedle dum and tweedle dee were laying and standing, respectively. 

"I never signed up for this shit, Murdock." 

"He was in trouble. I was there." 

"Well I wasn't and you brought me into it anyway"

She begrudgingly rolled off the kid's hoody. He couldn't have been older than 16. She wanted more whiskey. She started ripping at the shirt he was in to get to wherever was leaking blood.

On his side was a shallow stab, couldn't have been more than an inch or two deep. Looking at him, that wasn't her only concern. The kid was basically a skeleton. Hell he was so pale he looked like one too. There were bandages on all of his fingers. He was pouring sweat, but shaking as if he were cold. 

"He's sick. Probably been sick for a couple days. I caught him fighting in the street."

She pushed the torn up shirt onto the stab wound. 

"Ever heard of a hospital?"

Murdock sighed, took off his cowl, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Hospitals find parents. Kids that look like this don't have great parents. I'll stitch him up, I just need him to stay here until I can figure out who he is."

She looked down at the teenager again. 

"I hate this teamwork shit."

................................................................................................................................................

Peter had no idea where he was. That was the first thought in his head when he woke up. He jolted forward, only to hiss and feel the cut in his side. It was almost sunrise, and he'd lost track of how many nights since he'd run off. 

Last thing he remembered was a looming figure in a dark suit standing over him as he bled on the pavement. Now he was shirtless, in a strange place, hurt and not healing. He slowly looked over from the couch he was laying on. In the room was the Daredevil, sleeping lightly in a chair a few feet away. At a desk farther away was a woman, sleeping with her head on the desk and a glass in her hand. 

There were bullet holes in the walls, and he could see blood on the floor where he was brought in. He felt like puking, and his head was pounding. His limbs felt like lead and just the thought of leaving the couch left him exhausted.

Peter swallowed once, then twice. He closed his eyes for just a second, willing the world to stop spinning around him. Then he gathered his energy and hoisted himself up on two feet. He coughed, harsh and wet into his hand. It left his lungs empty and spasming for air. 

He blacked out for a second, came back sucking in air with his hand leaning heavily on the couch for support. He looked over to see the Devil of Hell's Kitchen standing up with both hands leveled in a placating gesture. Peter could see the guy's mouth moving, but he couldn't hear anything except ringing in his ears. The lady at the desk stood up too now, and she was walking over to him. 

They were going to take him back. They'd stick him with the Hawkins and lock him the freezer and he'd die in the basement. Tony would never be able to find him, he'd never see Ned or MJ again. He'd die choking on stale air and clutching at his stomach.

Peter stumbled back from where he was standing. His eyes wildly searched the room for an exit. Right past the lady's shoulder was an open window. If he could just get past her he'd be free. All he needed to do was ride out a few more days and he could go back to Tony and Tony would take care of him. 

He launched himself at the wall, sticking to it and crawling towards the window. The Devil and the lady stood stunned for a second, and Peter used their shock to lunge his upper body out onto the fire escape. He could smell the rotting trash and hot summer air, and he was about to pull his legs out as well when an iron grip curled it's way around his leg. 

He looked behind him to see the lady casually holding his leg and saying something he couldn't understand. He tried shaking her off but it didn't seem to even effect her. 

"Please- I can't go back. Don't take me back. They'll- they'll kill me! Please!" 

He couldn't hear his own pleading, but he knew he must've said it. They had to understand, they couldn't take him back. Hot tears poured around his eyes, and he clutched his side where it hurt. 

After a minute of begging and coughing and pain he went limp and the woman pulled him back in. 

................................................................................................................................................

After the runaway passed out again, Murdock had to leave for work. Jessica didn't pity the double life bastard. The kid was twitching in his sleep, drawing in harsh breaths that clearly were aggravating his already fucked up lungs. 

He was so scared when he'd woken up. The sound of him begging not to go 'back' still rung in her ears. She hated herself for caring about every little victim that stumbled into her life. She sat down to take another swig of whiskey when his eyes cracked open (again). 

The kid jumped up, looked at her, took a step forward, and went back down. After that she tied his hands and feet together, because the prospect of re-stitching his wound wasn't something she'd be up for and he'd inevitably tear that shit open at this rate. She'd untie him when Murdock came back. It was only temporary, and she didn't have the patience to deal with sick flighty vigilantes. 

The day was passing slowly, she didn't have any cases at the moment so it was just her and the kid and what remained of her whiskey. She only had a couple bottles left in the cabinet, and she cursed the fact that the whole Hand-thing never came with a paycheck. 

Who cares about saving the world if there's no money in it? 

She leaned back and slowly allowed herself to unwind with the bottle. A few hours passed when someone else knocked at her door. 

"I know you're in there Jess. I need to borrow some milk and maybe some company too. I'm bored." 

She didn't say a word, seeing as she had a bound teenager bleeding on her couch. The door opened anyway and Malcolm walked in. He looked carefully from her, to the empty bottle, to the kid. She really did need to learn to lock that fucking door.

"What the fuck Jessica."

"Long story, don't feel like telling it. It's for his own good, I'm still the good guy here." She poured some more whiskey into her glass. She downed it without a second thought and stood up to check on the kid. She walked over to where he was stationed and prodded at the stitches, checking for any pus or signs of infection.

................................................................................................................................................

 

Peter woke up again to someone pushing on his wound, hard. The pain was sharp and hot, a stark contrast to the dull but strong ache building in the rest of his body. He opened his eyes, but he couldn't see quite straight. He tried moving his hand up to massage his temple, but they were tied together in front of him and he couldn't get the strength to move them both. In a panic, he tried moving his legs too. 

He was trapped. 

He couldn't move. 

He hazily stared in front of him. There was a woman there, a man's voice in the background. 

His brain put the pieces together without conscious thought. He was stuck, in pain, and there were an unfamiliar and not altogether friendly couple's voices. Peter had to be back at the Hawkins'. Those people took him back. Tony hadn't been able to get the paperwork together in time because Peter had gone and gotten himself caught. 

Dread pooled in his gut, right next to the queasy feeling he'd been fighting for days. Supervillains, aliens, megalomaniac mutants, and he'd be brought down by a couple of insurance salespeople. The reminder of his death sat heavy in his heart. 

"Not the- not the freezer. However you want, but not the freezer" He eked out of his painful throat. It was so quiet for a second he wasn't even sure he'd said it.

The hands withdrew from his cut, and he could breathe easier. Distantly, he could hear "what did he say?" "Some shit about a freezer?" 

"Not the freezer! Please! I don't- I don't want to die in a freezer! Any other way!" He wheezed past his throat. Coughs racked his body, leaving him somehow weaker than before and chafing around the rope on his hands. He was shaking so much it felt like the world was moving under him. 

"Don't put me back in the freezer, please, please." 

He closed his eyes again to go to sleep, thinking they'd never open again. 

................................................................................................................................................

"Did you put a child in a freezer, Jessica?" Malcolm whirled on Jessica. The evidence was not looking to be in her favor. She was still looking at the kid, who'd lost consciousness after another fit of coughing. 

"No, but someone did." Her eyes had that special dark sheen they got whenever she was about to go all vengeance-y on someone. He remembered the look well. 

"No shit. This is dark, Jessica. He needs professional help." She looked back at him, then stood up. "Why is he tied up? He can't stay awake for longer than a few seconds and you just scared the shit out of him." She looked down at where the kid had tried pulling against the rope and shrugged. It was a good idea to her. 

Then Murdock came back. 

This time he was in his usual suit and cane get up. Behind him was Claire, toting a bag full of supplies and a fair amount of frustration with super people. Jessica couldn't help but think that she'd never seen Claire happy with any of them but Luke. She did use most of the good will on patching up dumbass vigilantes, so it's not like anyone could blame her for liking the one guy that would never need to be patched up. Claire took one look at the kid and rushed to his side. 

"Jesus Christ are you serious? You tied him up?" Claire was a force of heavenly anger. 

Jessica shrugged again. Matt's nose did that crinkly thing. It really was a good idea to her. Claire loosened the rope and threw it off before assessing the stitches in his side. She nodded approvingly before taking out a thermometer and other supplies from her bag. She took the kids temperature, blood pressure, and god only knows what else before injecting something into his vein and shoving a bottle of pills into Murdock's hands. 

"He's malnourished, dehydrated, suffering from blood loss, and he has the flu. Make sure he takes two a day for a week. Take care of him, Matt." 

She ran a hand through the kids hair, noticing how he leaned into it even in his sleep. 

"He's been through something bad, I don't know what. Don't let him go through anything worse. I have to get back to work. Call me if his temperature goes above 103, don't even think about binding him to anything, and stay. Safe." She made eye contact with everyone in the room once on the last note before packing up and leaving again. 

The three of them stared at each other and then at the kid as he rolled over a little on his side. He was mumbling in his sleep, something about not going back and a freezer. Then something occurred to Jessica.

"Is there an amber alert on this kid?" 

................................................................................................................................................

It only took an hour or so to find out everything they needed to know. 

His parents died when he was six, his uncle when he was 15, and his aunt just a month and a half ago. Since then he was placed in the foster system, with a couple that had fostered a few kids before. Jessica found it telling that she couldn't find a record on any of the other kids after they'd been fostered by the couple. 

She looked across the room at the kid again. Did she feel kind of bad about tying him up? Yes. Did she really regret though? No. 

Finally, Murdock decided it was time for him to wake him up. He gently shook the teenagers shoulder and said his name. After a minute his eyes squinted open. 

"Wuh? Where- where'm I?" 

Matt set a bowl of soup on the coffee table in front of him. 

"Good morning, Peter," it was night. "you're at my friends apartment. You're here to get a little bit better, and then I want to talk with you. Is that alright?" 

The kid looked woozily at Jessica, then Matt, then Malcolm. He rubbed his wrists were the rope had reddened them. He looked... scared. Lost, even. Tears were springing to his eyes but he was clearly trying to ignore them. 

"Who are you?"

Matt smiled warmly in what was probably meant to be a comforting gesture. The kid just paled even more. Before Matt could answer, the kid started stuttering again.

"Can I- Am I allowed to leave? There's people waiting for me. They'll know if I don't show up."

Matt could hear the lie and his heart softened. Peter thought that he was a prisoner here. He thought that Matt and Jessica and her friend were going to hurt him, badly. There was a very distinct kind of terror that Matt could hear in his heartbeat. 

"Well that's a lie." Jessica stated from where she was sitting at the desk. Malcolm gave her a pointed look. The kid was even more terrified now that they knew he was alone. He looked down at his hands and focused his eyes there.

"I don't have any money. I'm a-" his cheeks reddened "I've never- you know. So I'm no good for that." 

Murdock's posture visibly stiffened, and the smile left his face. 

"We wouldn't ask you for that, Peter. You're safe here. You're free to go if you'd like, but I doubt you'd make it very far in your condition. You're sick. You must be hungry. Why   
don't you eat some soup and we'll introduce ourselves." 

Peter eyed the soup suspiciously. He could feel his stomach caving in on itself but he didn't know these people, and who knew what could be in there. Matt slowly leaned down as not to startle Peter, and ate a spoonful. Peter watched him, then watched him back away. As soon as Matt was out of reach the kid grabbed the bowl and shoved some in his mouth. Jessica could hear him moaning a little from the other side of the room. 

Matt smiled again. 

"I'm Matthew Murdock, I'm an attorney. I heard from a friend you could use some help and I thought I'd offer my services. Over there is Jessica, she's a private investigator. This is her office that we've been in. Next to her is Malcolm, he's a friend and you can trust him." 

Peter was inhaling the soup. When he was done he looked up at Matt again. 

"You said you could help. What do you mean?"

Matt looked down at the shaking, sick, scared teenager sitting on the couch. 

"I'm going to make sure the Hawkins go to jail."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started a new job last night, so I don't know how regularly updates are going to come. 
> 
> If you like this story definitely check out I'm So Sorry, my other one. 
> 
> I just think Malcolm deserves more credit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt hatches a plan, Jessica is (still) done with everyone's shit, Tony's falling apart, and Peter walks into the belly of the beast.

Peter sat on the couch, dumbfounded. 

"Send them to jail? How? I-I really don't think that's necessary I just gotta hide out for a few days it's ok-"

"Peter." Mr. Murdock was crouching in front of him. "I don't know what they did to you. I don't know what they said. But if we don't do anything now then they'll foster someone else." 

Peter could feel the blood draining out of his face. He could take what the Hawkins doled out but he was also super-powered. Someone normal, someone defenseless locked away and starved like he was would be a death sentence. Peter swallowed past the lump in his throat. He thought about how he always prided himself in fighting for the little guy, and he made up his mind. 

"What do I need to do?" 

Mr. Murdock grinned down at him.   
................................................................................................................................................

"Oh, fuck that. That's your plan? Really?" Jessica was about two minutes into a five minute verbal ass-kicking. The kid still looked like he'd just come home after being a prisoner of war, and the plan to ruin all other plans seemed to sound good to him.

"A wire? You graduated from Harvard. Or Columbia or whatever and the best you can come up with is a wire?" 

Murdock shrugged, his eyes skimming over where she was standing. 

"We need proof."

"Why can't he be your proof! Jesus christ look at him!" 

Peter sunk further into the couch. He hadn't looked at any of them for a while, and he tried to cough quietly without alerting them to his presence. One of his hands was curled around his stomach, the other clenched by his side. After Matt pitched his trash-ass plan they couldn't get him to eat any soup so he was probably hungry too. 

"Jessica."

"You blind asshole he looks like he was chained up in a cave for the past year!"

Malcolm walked back into the room with a glass of cool water, setting it in front of Peter on the table. The kid looked up at him, carefully trying to assess whether the water was for him or not. He snaked one of his arms out and gripped the cup, relishing in the cool beads of condensation that rolled over his hand. 

Malcolm looked back up at Jessica. She was stomping around shouting at Matt, who was just shouting back. Meanwhile, there was an ill, traumatized child desperately trying to make himself unnoticeable. 

"Jess, maybe let him speak?"

She whirled on Malcolm, fury itself readying to unleash on him, when she looked over at the kid. He was studying the bandages on his fingertips, picking off lint and dirt that had stuck to them in the several days since he'd left the freezer behind. He took one off and Jessica could see where his nails had sanded themselves down, layers of skin removed and replaced by bloody scabs. When Peter saw her looking he quickly put the bandage back on and looked up at the three strangers that had helped him. 

"I uh- I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I can't just let it happen again- to someone else" 

His face was crumpled in pain and sadness. It made her want to punch something. 

"We'll make a better fucking plan. One that wasn't designed by a first grader."

He looked up at her, hands still cupped around the water glass. 

"I don't think I have any other options, Ms. Jones."   
................................................................................................................................................

Matthew ringed the door bell, his other hand fisted in the hood of Peter's jacket. He could feel the kid shaking through the fabric, the frantic beat of his heart. 

The door swung open to a woman that smelled like squash and socks, and who gasped when she saw Peter. 

"Honey come here! You'll never believe it!" 

Another heavy set of footsteps lumbered over to the door. Matt could smell the woman's crocodile tears forming and slipping down her face. She gripped Peter in an iron-tight hug and ushered him into the house. 

"Peter! We were so worried!" came the mans voice, sturdy and angry.

The woman looked back at Matt. 

"Thank you so much for bringing him back to us. Where was he?" 

"I saw him out in the alley one night, recognized him from the amber alerts. I think he's sick, though." 

Matt pushed the sunglasses back up on his face, and heard Peter's heart tick up somewhere in the house in response to something gestured by the man. 

"Well come on in, sit down and we'll call the police for your statement. I'm so very sorry for the trouble of bringing him here, you know teenagers."

Matt could hear the edge in her voice. 

"No need, I'll be going. Please tell him to stay safe for me."  
................................................................................................................................................

Tony hadn't slept in days. His head ached from sleep deprivation and in spots where he'd pulled at his hair. It was a mystery how long he'd been wearing the shirt he had on but he knew it had probably been too long. 

He had been poring over different CCTV footage, surveillance taken from his suits which were stationed all around the city, reading police reports, anything. The worst by far were the morgue reports. Before those he always needed to steel himself, take a gulp of something that would burn his stomach. Luckily, he never did find any sign of Peter in there. 

On this particular night he was running facial recognition software through any tourist pictures that had popped up on social media, checking to see if Peter made it into any of them. His eyes were burning, body trying to tell him he needed sleep but Tony was just picturing Peter scared and alone in some alley way. 

"Sir, Mr. Parker appears to have been returned to the Hawkins' residence." 

Tony's heart stopped. 

"What?"  
................................................................................................................................................

Tony pounded on the door. Nobody had come to open it and he'd been there 10 minutes already. 

"Peter! Peter if you're in there tell me! Make a noise or something!" He looked up to the windows, where the curtains were drawn. He wanted so bad to see the kid open the curtains and wave down at him, perfectly ok. 

He took up banging on the door again  
................................................................................................................................................

"Now if I go get the door are you gonna make any problems for us?" 

Mr. Hawkins loomed down on him. His arms were tied behind him on the chair, ankles tied to the legs of the chair. Peter couldn't remember the last time he felt blood circulating in any of his extremities. 

"You know, I'm sure he's not in good shape. He's been looking for you, you know. He'd probably be real distracted."

Peter felt tears pooling in his eyes

"Pl-please don't hurt him. Please, do whatever you want don't hurt him. I won't do anything I promise."   
................................................................................................................................................

Finally, the door swung open. Peter was standing there, in front of him. He looked awful, even worse than when Tony last saw him. He was rubbing his wrists gently and carefully avoiding eye contact. 

"Jesus." 

Tony surged forward to give him a hug back he flinched back. If at all possible he became even more pale. 

"Mr. Stark, I think you should go." 

Tony's breath caught and he searched the kid's face desperately. 

"What's going on, Peter? We're leaving." 

Peter backed up another step. 

"I can't Mr. Stark. Just-" The kid was fighting tears "just get all the paperwork done and then come get me. I'll be fine." 

He finally made eye contact with Tony as a tear rolled down his face.

"I'll be ok Mr. Stark, just-" he looked behind his shoulder and shivered "I'll see you in a few days"

With that, he slammed the door.  
................................................................................................................................................

"Good kid." 

Peter shuddered at Mr. Hawkins voice. He curled in on himself, fear running through him like ice in his veins. An arm landed on his shoulders, hard and strong, and Peter wished he had the strength to fight it off. 

He feels a fit of coughs coming on, and tries to supress them to no avail. They scrape against his throat and his vision blacks out for a minute. When he comes to again his wrists and feet are tied and he's being carried down into the basement. He tries to struggle, but every little movement drains his energy. He can hazily see where they're going before they get there and he gets a second wind of energy as adrenaline kicks into his system. 

Peter wriggled out of Mr. Hawkin's grip and landed on the ground, ribs hitting first. He tried pulling his ankles under him to stand up, but Mr. Hawkins' hand is suddenly around his neck and he's being lifted. 

"Now I'm getting tired of playing these games, Peter. Why can't you understand your actions have consequences? I think you deserve this time-out, don't you?" 

Peter shakes his head vigorously, trying to get words past the crushing grip on his windpipe. Before he knows it he's back in the freezer, only now he can't even try scratching at the lid. 

"Oh, and you really thought we wouldn't notice? Teenagers these days think they're so much smarter than everyone else. Recording devices are tacky, unoriginal. I'm not angry, really, I'm just dissappointed. We expected so much more from you."

Mr. Hawkins reached under his shirt and snatched the recorder from where it was taped to his chest. Peter gasped as he felt the tape rip off his skin. 

"Honey I think I have a solution to our last problem" 

Ms. Hawkins came down the stairs with an orange, dripping rag in one hand. 

"What- what is that? Is that- is that hot sauce?" 

Mr. Hawkins looked at her lovingly, and then grabbed the rag and put it in Peter's mouth. He immediately tried to spit it out, mouth and nose burning. 

"Uh-uh, not so fast. You need to learn respect, son." Mr. Hawkins produced a roll of duct tape from god knows where, and secured a strip over his mouth with the rag still in it. Peter felt like he was choking. The rag was red hot, wreaking havoc on his enhanced sense of taste. Unbidden tears streamed down his face and he shook his head back and forth unconsciously trying to rid himself from the pain of it. 

The Hawkins' looked down at their work proudly, and then plugged in the freezer. 

"We'll be back when you've learnt your lesson."

They closed the lid and the light turned off inside, leaving Peter sobbing in a rapidly cooling freezer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My new job is awful and I hate that I have to stay there so this chapter is short. 
> 
> Realistically, Peter would not have to go back but I just really wanted to soak up some terror. 
> 
> Uhh yeah. Thanks for reading, as always :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter catches a break. But is it too late?

Jessica slammed another shot of whiskey down her throat as she listened in on Mr. Hawkins threatening Tony fucking Stark. She set the glass down with so much force the glass splintered under her hand. Then she heard the kid crying and coughing through the recording and completely pulverized the glass.

"Yeah." She looked up at Matthew, "Fuck this. I'm going in."

Matt's head tilted her direction, his eyebrows raised in some kind of challenge. He was so cocky, it infuriated her. 

"You can't, not yet."

She scoffed at that. 

"Are we listening to the same thing? He's scared. I'm getting him out. We'll find another way." 

She stood up from her seat at the desk as Murdock positioned himself in front of the door. 

Distantly they could hear Peter's wet coughs filtering through the audio stream. There was a child in pain and scared and Murdock really wanted to let the charade keep going. Even when every second that kid was in there would be just another few years of nightmares.

"Don't do this, Jessica." 

Did this guy seriously think he had a chance against her? She had never been completely sold on the plan and now there was a child in danger and he thought to block her way. What a joke.

"Do you really want to do this, Murdock?" 

He cocked his head in response. God it was annoying when he did that. She lunged towards him, but he dodged and landed a jab on her ribs. Love tap compared to what she knew he was capable of. Barely even a poke compared to what she knew she could take. 

"Guys" Malcolm said from the side of the room

"Jessica we have to have solid evidence" 

She lunged at him again, but he dodged once more. 

"Go fuck yourself" 

She bodily lifted him up by the torso and tossed him to the side, and made for the door. Her boots stomped on the floor and echoed throughout the room, and before she could grip the door handle Murdock had yet again positioned himself between them.

"Guys" Malcolm said, much louder now.

"I'll kick your blind ass, Murdock, don't think I won't"

He didn't move a muscle, eyes scanning where she was standing. She picked up her fists and got in position to knock his daylights out. He did the same.

Jessica swung a fist towards his cheek, which Murdock blocked with a forearm and tried to land a hit at her kidney. She took a small step back and kicked out at his side, sending him flying to the side of the room. He crashed into the wall then dropped to the floor but wasted no time getting back up. A trickle of blood was leaking down his mouth. 

"You had enough? I have things to do." 

He rolled at her, coming up with some bull shit karate chop at her chest. It would've been laughable if it didn't hurt. She swatted him away again, hoping he'd stay down this time.

"Guys!" 

They both turned to look at Malcolm.

"If you're done with your pissing contest, you need to listen to this" 

He turned it up and the three of them stood stock still as the sound of a great big nothing streamed out of the audio feed. The wire had been destroyed. 

Jessica tore out of the apartment before any discussion could occur.  
................................................................................................................................................

Peter realized two things as soon as the freezer door closed. The first was that if Jessica and Matthew had heard what happened they would've come by then, and the second was that he was certainly going to die.

As the temperature dropped faster than he'd thought possible, the rag ravaged hell in his mouth and throat. He'd hoped his oversensitive nerves would have gone numb by now, but with every breath he could feel everything burning. His throat was getting even more inflamed, and it was getting more and more difficult to suck air down. 

He tried moving his tongue to shift the rag, but it just found new places in his mouth to ignite and even wound down his throat a little. As the rag set fire to his throat he gagged trying to get it out of his airway, only to have it sink further down. 

Peter couldn't feel his hands or feet, and if he had more energy he might be shivering, but as it was he let the cold render him stiff and hypothermic. What he found weird was that the colder it got, it felt more like his skin was burning, but in a different way than his mouth. It was like white hot, and he wanted to curl up to conserve what little heat he had left but his restraints wouldn't allow for it. 

And then came the gasp of air that didn't get down to his lungs. He knew it was inevitable but he'd hoped to hold out for longer. His lungs spasmed in desperation, and after a second he could feel his whole torso bucking for air. 

He felt like he was drowning.

God, Peter missed May. 

Not long till he saw her now. 

Sparks danced from the edges of his vision, quickly covering up his sight. His pain was morphing into a distant ache, the only sensation he felt being the red raw hunger for air. A pressure was building up behind his eyes, and the sparks changed into a distant white light slowly coming closer and closer. 

Through the haze he could've sworn the freezer lid open, and a second later his mouth was free. 

He sucked in air like a fish out of water, and it scraped down his throat. Suddenly everything hurt again and he clenched his eyes shut, trying to ignore the rushing sound in his ears. He forced more and more air in until he absolutely had to exhale, and then pulled more in. 

Once the pressure in his head faded, a shot of adrenaline flooded his veins. 

He lept out of the freezer, eyes frantic. He saw Jessica, and he could've sworn she was shouting something at him and trying to hold his arm down, but he slipped away from her reach before she could. 

Her mouth was working like she was saying words, but all he could hear was that ringing in his ears. The ground felt hot against his freezing body and he scrambled over to the wall and into the corner where the walls met the ceiling. 

"-esus! Do I look like I can handle this? Don't answer that." 

Mr. Murdock came running down the stairs and calmly tilted his head up at Peter. 

"Peter. Nice to see you." 

Peter was shaking fit to fall apart in the corner. His arms curled around his legs, and he buried his face into his knees. He wanted to hug himself so tight that he became a tiny little ball and no one could hurt him anymore. 

He'd been so close to seeing May again. Hot tears soaked his cheeks and wound onto the ground. 

"Hey, Peter, why don't you come down really quick? Let's get you some food, maybe a nap." 

He looked up and over at Jessica, as if to verify it was true. But she was looking at the freezer, studying where he'd scratched at the lid the first time. She picked up the rag and then glanced over to Peter, where the edges of his mouth were rubbed red. 

He looked at her, then the rag, then her again. She looked indescribably angry and he shrunk some how further into himself. 

"Jess. Maybe put that down?" 

She dropped it like it burned her. Like it had burned Peter. 

And because lady luck was on their side, that was when Tony fucking Stark barrelled into   
the basement. 

"Kid?!" 

............................................................................................................................................................................

Tony's earlier conversation with Peter didn't sit well with him. Something in the kids' face read wrong to him, and Tony was barely home before he decided to head back and investigate. 

Maybe he'd tell the fucking Hawkins he was taking the kid for dinner. They didn't need to know he would take Peter for dinner in India, a several hour plane ride away. The thought of whisking the kid away for a break lightened the weight on his shoulders a little. 

When he came to the Hawkins' house, the door was knocked down. With a flick of his wrist the suit was building itself around his body and he ran into the building. On the floor were the two Hawkins', unconscious. In the basement he could hear vague arguing. 

Tony busted down into the basement, shocked at the scene layed out in front of him. 

Jessica Jones, the PI FRIDAY had been keeping tabs on, was standing in the center of the room. A few feet from her was the blind lawyer that really shit the bed on secret identities, and curled into the corner of the ceiling was an incredibly distressed orphan. 

"Kid?!" 

Peter's head swivelled up to look at him. 

"Mr. Stark?" 

His voice was rough, and just asking for Tony set off a fit of coughing. The kid looked so... fragile. It felt wrong, seeing him like this.

"What uh- what are you up to up there?" Tony scanned Peter, trying to find any obvious injuries. The kids mouth was orange around the edges, and there was a rusted splotch on his shirt where blood was leaking down his side. 

The kid looked at himself like he just realized where he was, then he looked at Tony, equally as lost. He shrugged minutely, but he could've also just shuddered particularly strongly. It was hard to tell. 

"Hey, M-Mr. Stark?" God, he sounded so timid.

"What's up?"

"Did the paperwork come through? Can I leave?" 

Tony's heart clenched. 

"Of course you can, underoos. FRIDAY's been making and remaking your bed for days. Who knew robots could nest."

Peter offered a small smile as a reply, and Tony raised his hand to help the kid down. Peter tentatively stared at the hand before extending his own. Once their hands made contact 

Peter jumped into Tony's arms and clutched at him for dear life. Tony looked at the kid, feeling his heart lurch with emotion. He wanted to hate himself for getting so attached to the teenager, but it was hard when he wanted to just protect the ever loving shit out of him.

This whole experience would leave him with nightmares for the next few years, that much Tony knew. 

"Great. We done here?" 

Tony almost forgot about The Offenderrs, or whatever they were calling themselves, standing behind him.  
...........................................................................................................................................................................

Stark whipped around to look at her and Matt. He had the kid in his arms, and even though there was no way he could've been remotely comfortable the little guy looked happy. 

"Right. Who are you, again?" 

"Mr. Stark, that's Jessica Jones and Matthew Murdock."

Stark looked fondly at the kid, then back up at them. Jessica was about done with all the feelings flying around this place. The mission was done. Murdock had his recording, Stark had a traumatized teenager, and she still didn't have any cash for whiskey. 

"O-kay." Stark adressed his watch," FRIDAY, call Pepper and let her know we'll be having guests over for dinner." 

"Mr. Stark, we couldn't possibly intrude." Jessica thanked Matthew's god that one of them had the manners necessary to politely decline. Stark looked at them again, and she recognized the suspicion in his eyes. 

"Oh I insist. Now I'm not sure I parked completely legally per se, so I think we'd better be going."

Maybe he had whiskey. Appreciative billionaires usually have whiskey, right?

............................................................................................................................................................................

The ride back to the compound was tense, to put it lightly. The blind one had a ninja grip on his cane, but otherwise looked incredibly calm. The woman just glared at him for the majority of the ride. She didn't say anything though, and Tony would be damned before he broke the silence. 

Peter just slept with one hand clutching Tony's. He barely looked like the same person. 

Worst of all, Tony only had himself to blame for everything that had happened. The kid had been left all alone after the death of his aunt, abandoned by Tony. Guilt weighted heavily in his gut. Even though they were almost back at the compound, he wished Pepper was there to tell him what to do. 

Tony pored over his interactions with Peter in his head. He had made jokes. While there was   
a child starving and terrified, Tony had cracked a joke about robots and nesting. He was so ill prepared for this it wasn't even funny.

This was so much different than fighting aliens. He wished there were aliens to fight. Or domestic terrorists, or crack pot CEOs, anything but childhood trauma. 

He ran a hand through the kid's hair, he always did seem to like that. The kid's creased forehead smoothed out a little, and Tony wondered if he was dreaming. If they were nightmares. Nightmares were something else he'd have to get used to dealing with. 

There had to be a handbook somewhere out there for this.

What To Do When Your Teenaged Vigilante Loses What's Left Of His Family And Falls Through The Cracks Of The Foster System. 

Sounds realistic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long! I wrote and rewrote it so many times, but I feel good about this chapter finally. The parts with the cold are written from personal experience with hypothermia, and I can definitely say it's a lot worse warming back up than it is getting cold. 
> 
> Let me know what you think of it. I read every comment, and obsess about them, so I'd appreciate any you send.


End file.
